Shizuo and the Violin
by A Soldier Of My Own
Summary: Shizuo Heiwajima didn't consider himself a connoisseur of the fine arts. So what if he enjoyed a bit of music now and then? It reminded him of her smile. "Sayonara, Shizuo."
1. Poemè

A/N: So this is a total drabble. It's an idea I've had for ages, but never quite knew how to write it. This short story best goes along with the songs that ar elisted at the beginning of each chapter. It's very short. There won't be a sequel, but there will be five chapters, all of which have already been written.

This chapter's song:

_Poemè - By Secret Garden (Takes some time for the violin; it's at 1:50)_

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**The First Time**

The first time he saw her, she was standing on a corner.

Like most people, he didn't stop to talk to her, nor did he acknowledge her as he passed. He had a tendency not to acknowledge most people, unless they pissed him off or wanted something from him. Generally, he was fine with ignoring just about everyone, and she was no different.

She even kind of blended into the background.

His feet pointed him towards home, towards a bed seldom made and an apartment that was as cold and empty as the rest of his life. He would have made it home, too, if the sound of music hadn't stopped him.

Shizuo Heiwajima didn't consider himself a connoisseur of the fine arts. Hell, he didn't consider himself a connoisseur of _anything_. He didn't even like music all that much, and the idea of staring at a painting for any amount of time made him almost physically ill.

But the music that had frozen him in his tracks was so out of place in this city of clogged air and bustling people, that he couldn't help but turn and look.

The woman he had passed looked more like a girl to him. She was tiny, slender, and a fragile centerpiece in a world that kept on moving around her. Everyone who passed was as oblivious to her music as he had been mere moments ago; they didn't stop to acknowledge her, and didn't even bother to throw a few yen into the case lying open at her feet.

The artificial light of the city reflected off her violin, illuminating the polished wood and the bow that slid expertly across the ivory strings beneath her fingertips. Her hair was a shade of midnight blue that he had to admit he'd never seen before, and her pale skin told the story of a girl who spent most of her time indoors, or in the darkness. Her eyes were closed, one soft cheek resting on the rounded edge of the instrument in her small hands, and he had no idea what colors those orbs were beneath those soft lashes.

He'd guess they were blue.

Her song was a haunting, lyrical masterpiece, and something deep within his soul was soothed and enticed all at the same time. Unconsciously, his eyes drifted closed, and he listened to the music, letting it fill him with a sense of…of _something _he'd never felt before.

Shizuo didn't know what peace was, but he was sure this came pretty damn close to it.

Then, as if out of nowhere, the music stopped. Shizuo's eyes jerked open, and he found himself watching the girl from a distance as she bent over and set the violin back into the case. There was no money inside, and Shizuo silently wondered what the purpose of playing on a corner was if not for the money, but the placid expression on her face told him that she didn't seem to mind.

The latches on the case were clasped tightly together, clicking shut with a sound that was inaudible to him at such a distance. Her fingers, so delicate and dainty, lifted the case over her shoulder, and Shizuo observed her as she checked a watch strapped to her wrist, as if she might be late for some other important appointment, frowning faintly.

She glanced back at him only once, the only unmoving stranger in a sea of milling people, and smiled.

Shizuo gave a start, and a scowl slid into place as he fixed the woman with his most intimidating glare. Her smile merely widened as she skipped off into the crowd, violin and case in tow, and disappeared.

His face relaxed only marginally, a thoughtful look marring his features as he watched her go, and idly, Shizuo wondered if she would be back tomorrow. Then, cursing himself and his stupidity, he reminded himself that it didn't matter, because she was just a stranger. He didn't _care _if he saw her again, because she was just some weirdo performing on a street corner.

As he turned to go, dreading the walk back to his empty apartment, Shizuo wondered when it was he started lying to himself.

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A/N: Well, there ya go. First chapter. Tell me what you thiiiink. DO IT. Haha, I love you guys. This story is basically already written, so expect it to be posted tonight or later in the week.


	2. Heart String

A/N: So here's chapter two. I really, really wanna hold myself back from posting it all in one night. SUSPENSE. I want to keep you all in suspense. Hehe.

This chapter's song:

_Heart String by Secret Garden_

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**The Second Time**

The second time he saw her, he was drunk.

Shizuo didn't usually drink. To be honest, he tried to stay away from all forms of alcohol in general. When he was drunk, he found, he often did things that were even _more _monumentally stupid than when he was sober. Bad things. Things that got people hurt. Or had him waking up the next morning in a gutter and wondering what the hell had happened the night before.

Generally, he blamed Izaya. Not because the man had anything to do with it, but just because he blamed Izaya for everything.

Even paper cuts.

Even drunkenness.

He'd stopped to lean against a building for support, and his alcohol addled mind noticed that it was even darker than usual; he didn't usually walk home this late, but after a rough day at work that would've tested the patience of even a saint (which Shizuo knew he was most certainly _not_) he'd needed something, _anything_, to take the edge off.

Truthfully, alcohol had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now he wasn't so sure.

There was a churning in his stomach and a pounding in his head that he was certain hadn't been there a few hours before, and somewhere in the recesses of his foggy brain, he thought he might be sick. But his body was too numb to bother with something so inconsequential, so he kept up his stumbling pace, pushing off the building and ambling in a path that he was certain was straight, even as his wobbly steps began to tilt him to the side.

The music was what caught his attention first.

Even if it was late, there was still a sizeable crowd, so at first, he didn't see her. He managed to crane his neck and look over the tops of a hundred different heads without falling over, and he considered that _quite _the accomplishment. He considered it even more of an accomplishment when he spotted the back of her white shirt and that long mane of midnight blue hair.

If he'd been sober, he probably would've kicked himself and forced himself to go home. As it was, inhibitions (Or what he had left of them) were thrown to the wind along with their good friend caution, and he managed to squeeze through the crowd and make his way towards her.

Something of his usual self must've won out, because he stopped across the street from her corner, idly noting that he now referred to the corner of a public street as 'hers,' and then dismissing the thought because it was a stupid one and had nothing to do with anything.

She was holding the violin against her shoulder, her pale cheek resting against the same polished, oak wood as before. Her fingers danced along the edges of the instrument's neck, bow lilting this way and that along the pearlescent strings. A voice in the back of his mind said that she was rather lovely, and that the violin looked like it belonged there, perched just beneath her chin and resting on the curve of one delicate shoulder.

He promptly smothered said voice with a pillow and stabbed it repeatedly.

The song was another haunting melody, one that made his stomach churn even faster, and had his head spinning as he tried to absorb the tune and soak in the sound of her music.

The song she played was not one he recognized - not that he'd have recognized it anyways; he didn't usually listen to music, let alone _orchestral _music - but it was heartbreaking and sad and Shizuo wondered, if only briefly, whether or not she had composed it herself and what that said about the woman who played it.

Then he told himself that he didn't care, because she was _still _a stranger, even as the song ended and she lifted the violin from her shoulder. He had to remind himself that he wasn't going to see her again, despite the fact that he'd seen her twice in the same week, and that she didn't matter and he wasn't interested in learning her name and God _why _was his head spinning and was her hair _always _so pretty?

When she turned and smiled at him this time, Shizuo forgot to scowl.

Her eyes were blue.

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A/N: So there's chapter two. Like it? Review please. Love you guys~


	3. The Reel

A/N: Here's the next installment of _Shizuo and the Violin_. The name of the story doesn't accurately describe it, really, but it's what I named it while saving, and I liked it. Hehe. I hope you guys are enjoying it. It reads a lot better if you listen to the song while reading. Also, the girl is an OC, and kinda...super random.

This chapter's song:

_The Reel - by Secret Garden_

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**The Third Time**

The third time he saw her, he'd just gotten his ass kicked.

Well, not that he'd _admit _it. But technically, Izaya _had _kicked his ass. Well, not _technically _- literally. The man had walked up to him when he had his back turned, kicked him in the ass, and ran.

Shizuo had been so stunned, he quite honestly hadn't been able to do anything about it. Even the vending machine he'd hurled five minutes later was five minutes too late, and he'd ended up taking out someone's care before he realized that Izaya was long gone.

So, needless to say, he was in even more of a foul mood than usual, and he didn't quite notice where his feet were taking him.

When Shizuo looked up, the streetlight had flickered on above him, and he realized that he was standing across from 'her corner.' She was absent, of course; he didn't exactly expect her to _always _be there. Over the past week, he realized he'd been subconsciously taking the route past her corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, to hear another melody, or just…_something_. Not that he'd admit it, of course because if he admitted it, then it was like he was practically stalking her.

Shizuo Heiwajima did _not _stalk people, damn it.

But day after day, as he passed the unoccupied corner, he realized that this _was _tantamount to stalking. And he hated himself for it. And again, that little voice in the back of his head whispered that he should stop and talk to her the next time he saw her, that he should find out what her name was, maybe get to know her.

Said little voice was promptly shanked, tied in a sack, and tossed into a proverbial river.

Shizuo was about to turn and head down the familiar road that took him back to his apartment, when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

He turned to gaze across the street, watching in morbid fascination as the woman - _girl_, he corrected himself - appeared and set her case on the street. She kneeled down on one knee, and clicked the clasps open, and as she lifted the gleaming instrument from it's case, Shizuo wondered why she came here every night. She never left with any money, and no one - minus him, of course - seemed to even know she was there.

What was in it for her?

His eyes followed her movements as she lifted the violin and settled it against the curve of her shoulder. His mind chose that moment to acknowledge the fact that she was wearing a red shirt today, instead of white. Last time she'd worn white, and he hadn't realized it, but he decided he liked that color on her better.

The bow was held between her delicate fingers, and as it slowly slid across the ivory strings, a low, lilting tune warbled up from the violin. Shizuo subconsciously took a step forward, his feet leaving the curb without him even realizing it even as the first notes vibrated and hummed into the air.

Today, the melody wasn't haunting. It wasn't sad or thought invoking. It was light and cheery, and for some reason, Shizuo found the way her bow danced quickly across the strings to be mesmerizing. The song was lively, and it made his heart leap and his feet bring him ever closer, even as he realized that the faint, airy feeling in his chest was a strange, and utterly foreign urge to _dance_.

Shizuo Heiwajima had never danced in his life.

And he _wouldn't _start now.

But the tune of her song, and the way she swayed and jerked along with it in a tantalizing display of musical prowess made him want to throw inhibitions and humility to the wind and just…_dance_.

The song ended almost as quickly as it had begun, and Shizuo found himself missing the way the violin sat on her shoulder as she played, or the look of concentration that would mar her pretty face as she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on hitting the right notes.

Without realizing it, he'd made his way all the way across the street, and Shizuo came back to his senses only a few feet away from the girl. This time, when she ceased playing, she did not bend to replace her violin, but instead stared up at him expectantly, that same, soft smile on her face that promised everything and nothing all in the same motion.

They stood in silence, and Shizuo was, for once in his life, at a loss as to what to say. Did he introduce himself? Did he ask for her name? A little voice in the back of his head told him that he very much wanted to know her name, but it was promptly silenced by a flying kick to the throat and a well tied gag. So they stood there, staring at one another, him at a loss, and her expectant.

After a few more moments, the girl's smile faded and she bent down on one knee, replacing her instrument into it's case, and reverently snapping it closed. When she straightened, she was holding it in her arms, and her smile had returned as she said, very simply, one word.

"Ai."

Shizuo's brain chose that moment to give itself a good jump start, and he replied almost automatically. "Shizuo."

This seemed to please the girl, because her smile widened ever so slightly. Then without another word, she turned on her heel and skipped off into the crowd, her hair brushing against his hand as she twirled around. Shizuo watched her go with a look that was half lost, and half confused, wondering what, exactly had just happened.

In the back of his mind, he idly noted that her hair felt like silk.

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A/N: Another chapter, yush. How did you guys like it? Tellll meeee~ Love you all!


	4. Song at the End of the Day

A/N: Chapter four. One more chapter to go, and we're done! Yay!

This chapter's song:

_Song at the End of the Day - By Secret Garden_

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**The Fourth Time**

The fourth time he saw her, he was pissed.

He'd had his usual day at work. Nothing out of the ordinary; waiting on customers, cleaning glasses, listening to idle gossip and chit-chat and not giving a rat's ass about any of it. It had been an average, ordinary, normal day.

Until Izaya had showed up.

Shizuo knew he needed to learn to control his temper. It had gotten him into more trouble and more hopeless situations than he could count. But where Izaya was concerned, he also knew that there was absolutely no _way _he would be able to rein in his anger. And that was what got him into trouble in the first place.

So, twelve broken bar stools, five snapped tables, and twenty shattered glasses later, Shizuo found himself out of a job. Not permanently, of course. His boss had said that he would be working off his debt to pay back the business for what he'd broken, and then he could resume his work as normal, as long as it didn't happen again.

He silently swore it _never _would. At least, not at work. Wrecking other establishments was fine, but wrecking his place of employment was quite obviously a big no-no. A job equaled money, and money equaled an apartment.

And cigarettes.

He couldn't forget cigarettes.

And of course clothes.

Because running around _naked _with cigarettes just seemed ridiculous.

When he'd managed to finally get everything cleaned up at the bar, and his boss had finally allowed him to leave, Shizuo had stormed off into the night, intent on finding something to wreck or picking a fight with some worthless, idiotic street thugs. Maybe a whole gang. Yeah, a gang sounded good. Plenty of guys to beat the hell out of and work off some of his anger.

He hadn't realized that he was stomping through her corner until he collided with her.

There was an ear splitting crack, a strangled yelp, and the sound of wood hitting pavement and snapping in half.

For a moment, all Shizuo could do was stand there, dumbfounded, as he gazed down at the strange girl who had, more often than not and much to his chagrin, been plaguing his thoughts. Her violin lay beside her, and beside that, lay her bow.

Which was broken.

In two.

Shizuo silently willed himself to move, to help her, to do _something_, damn it, because standing there like and idiot wasn't going to solve any of his problems. When he finally managed to convince himself to function again, he swiftly bent down and lifted her broken bow into his hands. The tender, delicate wood snapped even further, nearly disintegrating into a pile of splinters and string as he held it out in his palm.

The girl - _Ai, her name was Ai_, he reminded himself - was staring at him in something that could have resembled shock. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise as she looked over her bow, her hand automatically moving to pick up her scattered violin. Her fingers shook as her free hand reached out to touch the splintered pieces of her bow, and then her gaze drifted up to Shizuo's face.

He quite honestly was at a loss. He'd been breaking things his entire life, always destroying things that were important, or ruining someone's life along the way. His hands, he'd long ago decided, were made for nothing but destruction, and they would and could obliterate anything in his path. But looking down at the broken bow that had held in both palms, he silently wished he had the ability to heal, because right now, all he wanted to do was mend the bow and ask her to play him a song.

Shizuo wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do now as her delicate hands gently reached out to take the broken bow from him and place it in her case. He followed her movements, feeling his face crumble slightly, and the words 'I'm sorry,' were stuck in his throat and just wouldn't seem to come out.

Ai merely smiled, and Shizuo did not understand that smile, because it was the one she'd given him three times before. That same, kind curve of her lips, that said everything would be okay, even when it clearly _wasn't_. Perplexed, he knelt there in front of her, watching as she fiddled with her case, her violin sitting patiently on her lap as she reached into the velvety depths of the instrument holder beside her.

"It's okay," she said at last, drawing something from a hidden compartment, and holding it up for him to see. "I always bring a spare. Everything will be fine. Don't worry."

She smiled as she hauled herself to her feet, and reached down to gently take his hand and bring him along with her. Shizuo dumbly allowed himself to be pulled up, staring down at her in quiet wonderment as she set the violin on the curve of one delicate, pale shoulder, and the bow along the vibrant pearl of the strings.

Quietly, her melody filled the air, and Shizuo noted that it was another light, airy tune, one that filled his heart near to bursting and made him want to throw back his head and laugh. His anger had evaporated, like water in the sun, and he found himself closing his eyes as he stood there, no more than a foot from the girl, and listened to her play. In his mind's eye, he watched her; blue silken hair dancing in the breeze, white skirt playfully flowing around her, black shirt hugging her curves and moving like fluid with her delicate, well-practiced movements.

Idly, Shizuo noted that it was the first time that breaking something had ever been 'okay.'

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Review! Love you all~


	5. Lament for a Frozen Flower

A/N: Okay, I think you've waited long enough. Thanks for all the reviews for the story! I love hearing from you guys!

Now the last chapter! Whoooo! I really hope you enjoyed it. The violin is my favorite instrument, and I LOVE Secret Garden. They've taught me to accept a bit of peace into my life every day and clear away the negativity. If only it was so easy for Shizuo.

This chapter's song:

_Lament for a Frozen Flower - By the Secret Garden_

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**The Final Time**

The fifth time he saw her, it was the last.

Shizuo hadn't really known.

He didn't often read the paper; in fact, he hardly ever did. It was too damn depressing. There was always news of someone getting mugged or some poor sap getting stabbed or some shit like that, and frankly, he really didn't like reading about it.

But something about that night, passing by the newsstand, made him stop and pause to look down at one of the articles on the front. It actually looked rather interesting; it was about an orchestra that had come to town, and he noticed that there was a piece on the violinists. Perhaps he could buy it and read about it; he'd had the weirdest urge to learn more about the instrument ever since he'd first seen Ai on her corner.

Paying for the paper and tucking it under his arm, Shizuo unconsciously found himself heading towards 'Ai's corner,' as he'd now officially dubbed it. He walked by it all the time now; on his way to and from work, out to buy groceries, or generally just when he was wandering through the city. Something about the spot, and the girl who sometimes occupied it, drew him in, and without really realizing it, a smile curved along the edges of his lips.

His step was much lighter than it had been these past few days; there hadn't been anymore incidents at work in the past month, and he hadn't seen Izaya in some time. In fact, if he could tentatively take a stab at it, he'd say that this week had been one of his _best_. Even if he hadn't seen Ai in nearly a month.

That last bit was what was bothering him. Every day after work, he'd looked for the girl, but she'd been nowhere to be found. Her corner remained conspicuously empty, and Shizuo couldn't help but think that it looked desolate without her standing on it, clad in her blue shirt and her brown loafers with her hair tied in some sort of messy bun or allowed to flow free.

She was on his mind more and more as the time passed, and Shizuo found that he couldn't quite get her out of his head. Just thinking about her and about her music made his heart feel lighter than it had in years, and he actually found himself looking forward to listening to her when he walked home. Their last meeting had been awkward at first, but it had turned out just fine in the end. When she'd finished her song, they had both smiled at each other, and bid one another goodbye, promising to meet again soon because Ai said she would be interested to know more about Shizuo, and Shizuo couldn't help but admit that he wanted to know _everything _about her. She'd said- "Sayonara, Shizuo," and had skipped off into the crowd with her violin in tow and a smile on her face that was wider than before.

Smiling faintly to himself, Shizuo found that he'd wandered to a bench that sat directly across from her corner; he checked for the girl with the midnight blue hair, but seeing no sign of her once again, sat down on the bench and opened the paper, intending to read as he waited for a short time, in case Ai showed up later in the night.

His eyes perused the orchestra piece, noting dully that it focused on the cellist and flutists more than the violinists. His gaze drifted down the paper until he found what he was seeking, and he settled in to read what he believed was an informative piece on violins.

But as his eyes traveled down the page, they froze on the picture of a familiar face, and Shizuo leaned in closer, gazing down at none other than Ai.

She was smiling serenely, much like she always did, and even though the picture was in black and white, he imagined her blue eyes were dancing and her midnight blue hair shining in the light from the camera. A smile wound it's way onto his lips as he chuckled to himself, his gaze darting down to the caption beneath the picture.

'_World Famous Violinist Dies at 21.'_

Shizuo felt something cold and hard and painful settle into the pit of his stomach as he read, and re-read that sentence. He looked for another picture, searching desperately for the caption that it belonged to. But he couldn't deny that the words were attached to the photograph of Ai, and in the back of his mind, he cursed at her for smiling.

How could she be dead? She had been alive, nor more than a month ago. Standing on the corner, playing her violin for him and promising to meet him again soon. She'd _promised_. How could she just go off and leave like that and break her promise? It wasn't fair. It wasn't _right_. _How _did she die? She'd been perfectly healthy, hadn't she?

An image flashed thorough his mind, of a smiling Ai as she stood under the glow of the street lamps. Her skin was no longer just pale, but _too pale _and beneath her eyes there were dark rimmed circles that said she hadn't been getting enough sleep, or perhaps _none _at all. And her wrists hadn't been delicate, they had been _thin_; her body hadn't been small, it had been _weak_. The clothes that had flowed so freely around her were _too loose_, hung _too far _from her skinny frame, and her cheeks hadn't been flushed with happiness, but with _fever_. She had stayed long because she couldn't _breathe_, and that skip in her step was more of a wobble to keep herself from _falling over_.

Dear God, why hadn't he seen it?

"Why are you smiling, damn it?" he demanded of the innocent picture, which did not respond, as pictures are not often wont to do so, and continued staring unknowingly up at him. His fingers gripped the sides of the paper so hard that the flimsy material tore, ripping from his hands and fluttering to the ground to land beside his feet. And still, the photograph of a smiling Ai gazed up at him benevolently, as if to ask _'Why did you drop me? I shouldn't be lying on the ground, Shizuo.'_

Running a shaking hand through his hair, Shizuo jerked his free arm down and snatched the paper up, rising to his feet so quickly that he nearly toppled over in a rush of dizziness. His gaze traveled quickly back to the corner, which seemed empty, and desolate and cold without her there. It was almost as if it was mocking him, taunting him with the idea of seeing Ai standing at the edge of it, her bow sliding across her ivory strings as she smiled at him from beneath her dark lashes.

"You shouldn't smile at me," Shizuo murmured, fingers digging into the newspaper, crumpling it in in his tightening grip. "You said everything would be fine. You told me not to worry. You said…it was _okay_."

Shizuo felt something cold and wet trail down his cheek, and he reached up with a shaking hand to gently wipe it away, staring at the droplet of water with a morbid, detached fascination as he silently came to grips with the fact that he would never see her again.

_It's okay. _

Shizuo Heiwajima did _not_ cry.

_Everything will be fine. _

So the heavens cried for him.

_Don't worry._

_..._

_Sayonara…Shizuo._

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A/N: You can commence hating me now. Thanks. =D Were you expecting that? Tell me what you think. Love you all!

This is the end of the story. I hope you enjoyed it, because I enjoyed writing it, and hearing sad music makes it SO much more fun.


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